Funny Stories About Skiing
Come along on my virtual 'tour' of skiing experiences.
These are my funny stories about skiing that unfortunately ended up (as usual) as my skiing bloopers!
If skiing was a sport in the Comedy Olympics, I would have all gold medals! I should have known it was not going to go my way from the day I tried it. In all fairness to myself, I have to say that I have the potential to be very athletic. However, the problem arises almost at once when the athletic part of me becomes the pathetic part. I have all the best intentions but something just happens!
Maybe it is because I was raised as a musician. I loved sports but they do not seem to come to me without a great deal of work - and even more embarrassment! My first skiing experience was none other than my honeymoon. Bob was always athletic and he has always loved sports. In my efforts to keep him enamored of me, I suppose I just thought by osmosis somehow I could master them as well. Over the years, it has created some of my best 'material'. I do not think you are supposed to ski for comedy.
When we went on our honeymoon to a ski resort, I figured no problem - Bob would stand by me or ski by me so to speak and teach me everything I needed to know. I should have thought more about why he would put his life in jeopardy when just helping me into my ski boots cost him a bruised forehead and me a nearly smashed toe. It probably was like skiing with Lucille Ball.
Before we even left the HUT, I had clanked heads with him as I bent over to see what he was doing to my ski boots and then he flinched and dropped a ski onto my other unbooted foot. He was already swearing under his breath and I had yet to get outside! Oy vey - in retrospect, I guess I'm lucky he finished out the honeymoon.
As he patiently explained to me, I was a novice (little did he know) and I needed some instruction so he had gotten me the perfect gift - ski lessons. I have to admit I wasn't thrilled - he was going off to ski the slopes and have fun and I was going to have to go 'perform' at something I had a feeling was not going to be quite as easy for me as playing the accordion! But a new bride can't grumble too much of course so off I went.
I have to say the ski instructor made it all worthwhile for me in his tight little pants with his trim and muscular body. Too bad I didn't get much more out of the class than lascivious thoughts! I truly was trying to grasp things but as I stood on the side of the mountain watching people flying down it at breakneck speed, I had to wonder if this was going to be my sport. Obviously it was not as while I was watching the other skiers come zooming down the hill, somehow I lost my focus and got dizzy. I felt myself lean, then I felt myself start to fall and unfortunately for the other 7 or 8 people in the line listening to the instructor, I proceeded to take down the entire line like dominoes until we were all laying in the snow. Mr. Built was not happy.
The class just got worse - I don't really know what was wrong with that instructor. He must not have been very good because no matter what he told me, I could not do it! He took me over to the tow rope and told me how to get on and how to stop. Unfortunately I did not quite understand part of that because when we were supposed to be stopping, I forgot to let go so I banged into the man in front of me. Even though I was young and pretty then, he did not like being body slammed from behind - what a jerk!
After a couple of hours of this 'fun' I decided to do Bob and I both a favor. I told Mr. Hunk that I was too tired and was saving myself for my honeymoon so took off my skis and did what any self-respecting person would do - went to the bar and sat in front of the fireplace. It worked for me.
I pretty much gave up skiing for several decades although I did get up my nerve from time to time and 'dabble'just to keep my skills current! Sure thing. Then in about 1983, someone in my family had the brilliant idea to have the whole family go on a ski vacation to Canada at Whistler....I'm still ticked about this! Except for the snow and the beautiful country, it was not the trip from heaven for me, Mrs. Grace/Poultry in Motion. What made things even worse was that everyone except my mother skied - and pretty well. Even my legally blind son skied! You have to be kidding me!
Determined not to let this sport get the better of me, and after many dares from many family members, I finally succumbed and decided to just do it - Nike's words were never more true. I had skied enough over the years to know 'the basics' but I still did not like it. I'll tell you why.
These are my gripes:
- Why do you have to stand in a line and try to maneuver long stick things on the ends of your feet while waiting for the chair lift and try to get on without falling on your butt? It's the STRESS of it all that gets me.
- Why do you have to ride on a ski lift so high in the air? I'm not a fan of heights. Can't there be like a ground shuttle that takes you up?
- Why do you have to point your skis up and sit forward and then ski down a hill? Does this make ANY sense to ANYONE? This is a sure recipe for disaster. Just the thought of getting my tips up sends me into a panic. (Actually the WORDS 'get your tips up' just don't sound right! It sounds like aviation to me!) I want them to stop the ski lift and let me stand up and gracefully slide down - preferably on my butt. I'm going to end up there anyway!
- Why do the hills have to be so steep? Don't they know that speed kills? The only way to combat this for me is to ski sideways - back and forth across the face of the mountain. Do you know how long that takes? Do you know how close I have to get to the edge because I hate turning?
- Why do I have to snowplow to slow down? That is so stressful on your knees and I do not like going too fast so if I ever DO go downhill, I can barely feel my knees by the time I'm down the first run.
So here we are - oh happy days - it's all about everyone having fun. Too bad it happens to be about 40 below zero this particular year and the snow is hard as ice. There are hardly any people STUPID enough to be out skiing on this particular weekend so I guess that was good - less viewing audience. The first afternoon we went up after I had invested half of my life savings in a lift ticket, I did my usual - got into the line and managed to step on the man in front of me's skis and popped the sucker right off him! He was happy - MERRY CHRISTMAS dude! Get a sense of humor! What IS everyone's problem anyway?
I finally get on the stupid chair lift. Of course, I'm paired with my extremely athletic tall sister who is an excellent skier. She doesn't give a fig that I'm muttering to myself nonstop - a sure sign that things are probably going 'downhill' literally. I hate getting off the ski lift. I don't dislike it - I HATE it! I have myself convinced (and somehow I'm always right) that I'm going down....I stood up, proceeded to try to ski down the little slope but oh big surprise - I fell and slid down the whole way in a nice little bundle. Sigh.
Well, I get back up and proceed to try and ski over to the beginning of the run but somehow (another surprise) I stepped on my own ski and in my efforts to stay upright fell over sideways. I now have an audience - for some reason everyone wants to ski with ME. This can't be a good thing. Finally I get my skis on and I get back up. It is so cold I'm sure my toes and fingers will never be the same again in my lifetime and I'm still running this in my mind - why am I out here?? My sister is yelling something about being a good sport and shutting up and just getting with the program. So I push off and start skiing down the blasted slope - I'm having a BALL!
Well, as I'm going, I'm thinking 'wow - this is not good - I'm going WAY too fast.' The icy conditions were not conducive to me going across the face of the mountain so now I'm forced to go straight down! I do not ski straight down - now my modus operandi is RUINED! I'm starting to panic and as soon as I do that, I notice that I'm going even faster. My sister is swooshing away oblivious obviously to the dangers of speed. I remember screaming out something about 'HELP - I'm going too fast!' I seem to remember a laugh over her shoulder and her still swooshing along and since I was not getting the help I was hoping for in terms of encouraging words or how to get OUT of this, I did what I thought was best. Somehow my sister had stopped and turned around to wait for me I guess because she saw the whole 'show' go down, as did quite a few other people, including those on the chair lift.
In my state of panic, I decided to just do what I thought was correct - put my ski poles in front of me to stop myself. I did not apply the laws of speed and trajectory of flying objects OBVIOUSLY - I don't even think I thought about it. In an effort to just stop myself as I felt I was flying down the hill, I just jammed/thrust my poles in right in front of me - and managed to impale myself right onto them. My stomach hit the poles, I gasped in agony, uttered a string of swear words my grandmother would have been proud of, and proceeded to crumple in a fetal position to my side on the snow. I heard laughter - LOTS of laughter. I probably looked like Arte Johnson falling to the side on his bike. Somehow to top it all off, I lost one of my skis and it went FLYING down the mountain.
I heard my sister laughing her head off - she said she was coughing - you bet! I'm not stupid - inept and a klutz - but I know laughing when I hear it! She said she'd be right back - she was going to go get my ski for me. I remember yelling out something like 'KEEP IT - I don't want it back.' But she was not listening. She was determined to kill me - I know it. It was payback for the Chocolate Bomb. She ended up towing the blasted ski back to me and then making me put it back on. I skied hunched over down the slope and did what I do best - went to the lodge, went to the bar and took off my skis! This was starting to be my favorite part of skiing!
Now you might think that was the end of it. But of course not. I had super sore abdominal muscles (I wonder why) and I had bruises on my abdomen that looked like I'd been involved in kick boxing. Bob was only sorry that he had missed my new technique. However, he told me that he was feeling badly that I was having so much trouble (do you really THINK?) and he was going to make it a point to ski with the next day to see what was going wrong. He was convinced that I could do this - and do it well. I don't know which Audrey he was looking at but think he had me confused with my athletic twin!
Next day, we head out bright and early (oh boy - I can't wait) and he tells me that he thinks I'm looking at this all the wrong way. I'm sticking to baby hills when I should branch out and try to ski at least intermediate hills as they are actually easier than the 'bunny' hills. Huh? This is not making sense - and I'm wondering if he wants my insurance money! But I love him and I trust him (kinda) so I ride on. I'm getting really stressed now because we are going on MAJOR ski lifts and we are going higher and higher. I'm wondering if my brain can handle such a high altitude but he assures me it'll be great!
Well, the fateful part is coming up - the part I hate the MOST - the part where I 'disembark' the ski lift. I turned to him one last time and asked if he could yell out for them to just stop it and let me off. This was a major get-off point and I was just not sure I could do it. He is already sliding forward and I know he is going to leave me to my own devices, meanwhile muttering all kinds of platitudes - 'it's easy - nothing to it - quit being such a baby and just stand up, slide and go'. I'm mentally trying to talk myself into this but my body is NOT buying it. I should really have been paying more attention to what Bob did but I was caught in panic mode so when he suddenly stood up and swooshed down the slope, I knew I was in trouble.
Why was I still connected to the ski lift if he was already gone? I realized that I had stood but I was still holding onto the ski lift - like in a death grip. I also coincidentally realized that my skis were not touching anything - they were actually off the ground. Now at this moment, I could have let go - I was only a tad off the ground but I freaked. Now there was no WAY I was letting go. About this time, I noticed the weirdest thing - the gal in the booth was looking at me and she was pretty close! She also had her mouth wide open and she was looking horrified. I all of a sudden realized that I was in a bit of a 'spot' so I decided I'd better scream - that look on her face probably did it! So I screamed - I think she screamed too but I'll never be sure. Then I did the craziest thing (as if the rest of it was all normal?) - I just 'let it go' so to speak. I decided I could not hang on there forever so I'd better just let go and get it over with. I was going to fall ANYWAY so what the heck?
Too bad I was quite a bit higher off the ground than if I'd just stepped off and skied down - but oh well. I bounce well. Or I should say I ROLL well. I probably looked like a rolling snowball of skis and poles as I careened down the slope and came to a shivering, screaming mess at my husband's feet - who by the way has the nerve to say 'where the hell were you?' 'Oh - just hanging around! Thanks SO MUCH for being my backup!' Oy vey - things were a little chaotic there for a while - I don't know why but everyone wanted to know why I did that! Did what? I guess it was not the proper 'dismount' from the ski lift but under the circumstances, folks, it was the best I could do!
I think I managed to ski down one part of the slope and the next thing I knew, we pulled up at another slope that was nothing but a bunch of tiny SHELVES. I turned to Bob and said with a few expletives 'you have GOT to be kidding me' - and he answers something about it's not as bad as it looks. My answer - 'Well, pal, I've had just about enough of this 'fun crap' and you can talk until you're blue in the face but I am NOT - I repeat NOT skiing down this slope.' He just shrugs and goes on about his skiing - and I took off my skis and somehow managed to WALK down the shelves while other skiers flew over the top of me. I don't know why they kept yelling at me - what did they care if I took off my skis? Some people are SO competitive.
I don't have to apologize - I found my niche. When they all finished their ski day, I was right where I needed to be - in the lodge - in the bar - with my book and a nice warm albeit bruised body. I've decided that is my very favorite part of skiing and now I never turn down a ski trip! I just make sure I'm the one 'holding our seats'! It seems safer for all concerned this way don't you think?
Other Stories By This Author
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Those of you who know me a little bit by now can attest to the fact that I grew up in a bit of a strange environment. That is not to say that I am complaining about it, you understand. Just stating the...